


Did you grow a soul?

by SkyOfDust



Series: Take my soul [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenders, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyOfDust/pseuds/SkyOfDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris' heart exploded with the Chantry. He has never forgiven. Maybe it is time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did you grow a soul?

It was a pure coincidence. How it happened, Fenris wouldn't know.

The world had changed, and he had found himself on the run again. What he fled, he didn't know either. The past, the memories, the sadness, perhaps. He still wore the red scarf around his arm in order to remember. He fled and he hunted. Slavers, abominations, apostates, templars. Anyone who didn't do the right thing and thought killing people was the answer. Maybe Fenris thought killing people was the answer. Anyone who had played a role into this, into this nightmare he lived. Why he joined with the mages on the final battle, he couldn't remember why, now that Hawke was far away. Hawke the mage. Hawke his friend. Hawke and this bunch of companions he dared to call a team. A party that exploded with the Chantry, somehow. A pirate who fled with a relic and abandoned them with a war against the Qunaris; a blood mage who obliged Hawke to kill her entire clan; a guard captain who could do nothing to prevent this, who almost helped with this madness; a brother who betrayed his family to become a templar; an archer who promised to come back with an army to hunt one apostate; and this apostate, this damned apostate who blew up the Chantry for freedom. How could he even know what it was to desire freedom? Had he ever been a slave?

So it was pure coincidence when his eyes fell on dark golden hair and warm amber eyes. He recognized the stubble, though it was almost a real beard now. He recognized the feathers on the shoulders, the silhouette, even thinner than before. He recognized it all. The man he had hated, the man he had insulted, the man he had wished dead. The man he had learned to know over the years, the mage who had showed him things he didn't know about. Kindness, oblivion of sorrow, hope, this terrible hope that led to all this, the heart that beasts faster because of a look, a smile, a touch.

After Hawke, Fenris had thought it was over. Everything he hoped for, he had left it at Hawke's mansion that night. But the mage had shown him otherwise. Eyes shimmering with love. So much love Fenris could do nothing but accept it. Maybe a day had come when he had returned it. He did not want to think about it at the time. Until it was too late and he left again. How could he forgive, how could he forget? His heart had exploded with the Chantry.

Amber eyes looked up and Fenris' heart scattered in his chest again. How many times his heart could die before Fenris would fall too? How many heartbeats before the pain goes away? How many seconds, and how many prayers to the Maker? Did he believe in the Maker or was he just that hopeless he would try anything?

“Please, help me.” Anders pleaded.

Fenris shook his head. The templars that was holding the mage's arm glanced at Fenris and his eyebrows raised as he stared at the pointed ears, the sharpy armor, the great sword and the lyrium tattoos.

“Fenris, help me.”

“What do you want?” asked the templar, nodding at Fenris.

“What are you going to do with this mage?” the warrior asked with a neutral voice.

“He's… special. He's a symbol. He's going to be made Tranquil so the war can end. It's not too great sacrifice. A mage's power against hundreds of lives.”

Not only his power. His dreams, his desires. His believes. His love. The love. Did Fenris ever loved?

“Fenris, help me!” Anders pleaded again, raising his shackled hands so that Fenris could see he was a prisoner.

Freedom. So much for freedom. Were they ever free of anything, as they all tried to escape what was inside. What they could not flee.

“Why? Why would I? You're going to be made Tranquil. You're not going to be killed. It's best for you and for people around you. It's safer this way. You'll feel no more pain, mage. Delusion. Deception. You'll never feel anything. How is it a bad thing? It will never hurt again.”

The Templar nodded and sighed in relief as he realized Fenris was no threat to him. Fenris always sided the templars, didn't he? Until that day, when his heart was so crushed it seemed he would not be able to feel anything again. But he did. Right now, looking at honey brown eyes. Something stirred unpleasantly inside and he wanted to get rid of it.

“But I want it to hurt!” Anders replied, tears shimmering in his eyes.

“What?”

Fenris tilted his head and crossed his arms. He tried no to stare at those little things he once loved. The fingers covered with ink, the strand of golden air that always escaped the tie, the feathers and their sweetness, the white neck where he would bury his head, finally feeling safe. Safe, in an abomination's arms? Bullshit. He should have seen it coming. He should have known. But he too had wanted to believe as the mage did. He too had wanted to hope.

“Pain is not always bad, Fenris. Have you ever looked at the sunset and felt your heartbeat quicken for no obvious reason? Have you ever looked up at the stars and wanted to cry without even knowing why? Have you ever found yourself alone in your mansion, drinking your damn wine, and hoped for something else? All this is painful, Fenris. Feeling the raindrops on your face and closing your eyes to let them reach your heart, accepting another's touch against your skin and offering your soul without any question, knowing it will end in tears and deaths. It's this deep melancholia you fought against your whole life, Fenris. You struggled so hard, even when we were together, not to let it consume you. I never fought it. I embraced it! Don't take that from me! The dreams and the delusion, the smiles and the tears. I want to be able to cry when someone hurts me. I want to be able to be hurt. I want to be able to remember you and still feel what I feel. I want to be alive!”

“They won't kill you.”

“Some things are worse than death! I've already told you that before. Help me.”

The Templar sighed. He seemed a decent man. Anders was not injured. Did he even fight when he was captured? Or did he give up, waiting for death as he did when he begged Hawke to free him from the demon? Hawke had not. Hawke could not. Fenris either. Where was Sebastian when we needed him? Was it the Maker's will, that Fenris would meet the one person he hated as much as he loved?

“I won't kill a templar and free an apostate.”

Though it seemed there was no more templars and apostates. The war was only chaos. A mage's feelings against hundreds of lives. It would be the mage's punishment for what he did there.

“I didn't ask you to.” Anders whispered, a sad smile curling his lips. “Help me.”

Fenris suddenly understood. He widened his eyes in disbelief. The mage really meant it. The mage preferred to die. While Fenris would give away everything he had not to feel the pain and the fear anymore, the abomination would give up his life in order to prevent it. Antagonistic until the end, it seemed.

“Fine. I shall accomplish your will, mage. I'll help you.”

Anders looked so grateful Fenris could all but look away. He wanted Fenris to kill him. But what the mage couldn't understand was that Fenris didn't wish to be that man anymore. The one who could kill his friends without questions.

The mage was infuriating. He was dangerous. The demon had turned against the world. No matter how hard the healer tried to prevent this, it had happened. And would happen again should the mage survive. Killing him was the wisest choice. Death or Tranquility. No other options.

However, Fenris wasn't able to get rid of this problem. To kill a man who helped so many people, who saved Hawke and his friends more than once on the battlefield, who healed his wounds until there were not even scars to tell the story of a great battle, the man who had starved himself so that he could buy bandages and poultices, the man who wrote his manifesto until his fingers ached and he passed out on his chair, because he believed, he foolishly believed, that his fight could end in peace. And he failed, Maker, they all failed.

“I don't know who you are.” the templar said, raising a threatening finger toward Fenris. “I mean no harm to you. But I intend to bring Justice to this world and this apostate will...”

“Justice? You want justice?” Fenris asked. “Then let the mages be free. Let them make their own mistakes and then punish them with equal measure. Don't punish them before they even had the chance to know what life was. Because life is mistakes.”

Fenris lit up his markings and buried his hand in the templar's chest. He looked at the painful expression of the boy and smiled.

“Don't be afraid. I just need the key.”

The boy's shaking hands found their way to his belt and he handed Fenris a little key, looking at the arm buried in his body with great fear. Fenris grabbed the key and nodded, before he let go of the templar.

“Run now and you'll live.”

The boy did so. Fenris unlocked the shackles and Anders stared at him. He stared and stared, until the elf looked up at him. And then he smiled. And Fenris' heart beat faster again. Maybe Fenris' heart was not as damaged as he thought. Perhaps the pain was a part of something bigger, something more important than just the idea of hurting. Maybe pain was part of love. And in the end, Fenris would do anything to keep this inside him, whatever the cost.

His hand grabbed Anders' collar and he looked at amber eyes. Maker, he had not noticed how much he missed them.

“Don't ever leave me again, mage. Or I will kill you.”


End file.
